


Restless Nights

by Rubadubababyoil



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Brian is confused about his feelings, Early Queen (Band), Fluff, Gen, M/M, Nightmares, Pre-Slash, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23421850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubadubababyoil/pseuds/Rubadubababyoil
Summary: Freddie has been suffering from nightmares on their tour, and Brian wishes he would open up to him, especially since they share the same hotel room...
Relationships: Brian May & Freddie Mercury, Brian May/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 24
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tagging this as Gen because nothing really happens between the boys, but Brian is in denial about his big ol' crush on Freddie.

Brian curled up under the scratchy blanket on the bed in their hotel room. It wasn’t very comfortable, but it would have to do. He only hoped he could fall asleep soon as possible, for a couple reasons. The first one was that he wanted to be fully rested for their show tomorrow night, obviously, but the other one was that the sooner he fell asleep and didn’t have thoughts about how endearing Freddie looked while sleepy, the better. The warm fluttering in his chest he would get when Freddie would smile brightly or rub his eyes with a yawn was new and confusing, and to be frank, Brian planned on ignoring it as much as possible. He was telling himself that it was merely fondness from a growing friendship, but he never felt heat crawl up his collar because any of his friends called him _dearie_ or _darling,_ now did he? Then again, Freddie was the only person he knew who dropped those terms of endearment so freely into conversation. Still, they were friends and it wouldn’t be right for Brian to feel anything more—if he even did feel anything more. He was troubled by the thoughts he was having. He liked girls, and quite a lot at that. He couldn’t be feeling anything more for a bloke, his good mate...right? Right. But. Regardless, the less he thought about all of this the better.

Brian heard the bathroom door open and soft footsteps pad on the carpet of the small hotel room. They didn’t have the money to have their own rooms yet. He didn’t know how the band settled into the habit of him sharing a room with Freddie, and Roger and John sharing a room, but here they were. He supposed it was his rotten luck, since it was pretty difficult to ignore how weird his chest felt around Freddie when he had to see him sleeping soundly in the bed across from him. Sometimes, when he was quiet and not strutting around a stage or twirling around in a new outfit, Freddie looked so small, especially under the covers, and it gave Brian the inexplicable urge to hug him. The _friendly_ urge to hug him, he told himself.

The mattress creaked as Freddie settled into the other bed. “Goodnight, Brian,” he said, sounding tired, but at ease.

“’Night,” he said, not opening his eyes. Fortunately, fatigue was tugging at his eyelids and weighing down his limbs, so it felt like sleep would come easily tonight.

* * *

“Aaah!” a shriek tore into the quiet of the hotel room.

Brian bolted upright in bed, his pulse hammering in his neck. “What?!” he shouted instinctively. It was dark and this definitely wasn’t his bedroom, which only made him panic more. Where was he? What was going on? His hand blindly reached for a lamp, and finally, he found a string and pulled. The room was then illuminated in yellow light from the lamp, and Brian rapidly blinked the sleep out of his eyes. He looked around, and then let out a sigh of relief when he saw Freddie. They were in a hotel room, right. They were on tour.

“Oh,” Brian put a hand over his eyes, “you scared the life out of me.” He glanced over at the clock on the bedside table between the beds, and he saw it was 3:07. Brian was going to groan in annoyance, but hang on: what had awoken him in the first place?

“Sorry,” Freddie said, but something about his voice sounded strange.

Brian looked over at him.

Freddie was sitting up, the blankets bunched up in between his shaking fists. His face was pale, his eyes were wide, and he was panting. His chest moved up and down with each breath and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his fire.

“Freddie, what’s wrong?” Brian asked, concerned and feeling more awake now.

Freddie shook his head. “Nothing.”

“It’s clearly something.”

“Just a nightmare. Sil-silly me,” he said faintly. He was looking down at his hands. He started to get control over his breathing, but his fists were still trembling.

“Oh. It sounded bad.” It finally registered that the sound he heard was Freddie yelling. It wasn’t a pleasant sound at all. Brian had seen him nervous before, especially when meeting new people, but never outright frightened.

Freddie winced. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Sorry. Let’s go back to sleep.”

“It’s all right, but are you sure?” Brian didn’t like how afraid Freddie looked. “Want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. “Only a stress dream. It’s not worth talking about.” He still didn’t look at Brian. He laid down and rolled over, facing away from him. “It’s over now. Go to sleep. I won’t have my guitarist passing out whilst I’m on stage.”

Brian could take a hint. He wasn’t going to push someone to talk about something upsetting when they clearly wanted to drop the subject. He didn’t want to trigger Freddie’s temper. Even so, he felt a little worried. “Well, okay.” He turned out the light. He looked over at Freddie under the covers. He was curled in on himself. Brian frowned, but didn’t know what he could do. “Goodnight, again.”

“Goodnight.”

When dawn arrived, neither of them mentioned the incident. Freddie was acting like his usual self, so Brian shrugged it off.

* * *

A couple of days later, Freddie seemed off. He was quieter than usual, but it wasn’t one of his pensive moods he got when he was creating; they were on tour, so no one really had time to write, anyway. The band was eating lunch at a diner, and Freddie was staring into space and not eating much. The skin under his eyes seemed a little dark, but it could have been the lighting.

It was John who lightly tapped him on the shoulder. “Freddie?”

Freddie jumped. “What?”

“You all right?” he asked. “You’ve just been...sitting there.”

Freddie rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, darling, I’m only a bit tired today.”

“Having nightmares again?” Roger asked.

“Unfortunately,” he grimaced.

“Was it the one about the hotel collapsing on top of you again?”

Brian raised his eyebrows. Freddie told Roger the details about his nightmares, but not him? He felt strangely hurt by that, but that was ridiculous. Freddie was a grown man, and Brian wasn’t his mother. He wasn’t obligated to tell him about his bad dreams. But he still chose to tell Roger, apparently.

“Yes,” Freddie said with a sigh. “It’ll pass.”

Brian looked at him carefully, and knew that the dark circles under Freddie’s eyes weren’t just his imagination. He had a nightmare last night, and Brian didn’t hear him? He woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep, and he didn’t wake up him?

“I didn’t know you had another bad dream,” Brian said.

Freddie shrugged. “You were sleeping.”

“Yeah, but. You could’ve woken me.” He didn’t know why this was bothering him. He told himself it was because he didn’t like the idea of his friend spending the rest of the night awake and shaken by a dream, and that was a perfectly normal thing to feel about one’s mate. Yeah.

“So you could sing me a lullaby?” Freddie asked coyly with a twinkle in his eye.

“He can serenade you with his guitar,” Roger smirked.

Brian was sitting next to him, so he elbowed him in the ribs.

“Hey!” Roger complained.

Freddie was smiling at him from under his lashes.

Brian looked down at his food, avoiding his gaze. “Well. Anyway. Dreams are weird,” he muttered, and the conversation ended.

* * *

A few nights later, Freddie had another nightmare, and Brian was awake to witness it.

Freddie loved a good party, but his voice started to tire by the end of the concert. That worried him, so he reluctantly decided to turn in early and rest his throat. “I’ve got to rest the goods,” he told them with a sigh. “I can’t have Roger rush in to sing every note I miss during the entire tour.”

They all understood, of course.

“You can come out with us next time,” Roger smiled. “No big deal.”

Brian felt a bit sorry for him, but was glad that he was getting rest. A couple hours later, quite a bit drunk and tired, Brian stumbled back to their hotel room. He was in a good mood and pleasantly fatigued, ready to crawl right into bed. He would have to shower in the morning, but he wanted to brush his teeth. Waking up and tasting stale alcohol and morning breath was one of the worst tastes in the world. It was dark in the room and he stubbed his toe on the wall. He hissed a swear word, but stopped when he heard a low groan.

Brian looked around the corner, and sighed in relief. He was drunk enough to have forgotten Freddie would be here. Oops. He must have been making too much noise.

But Freddie was still asleep. He was lying on his side with the blankets pulled up to his mouth.

Brian realized he was staring and shook his head to snap out of it. That made him dizzy and he groaned, clutching his head. Ugh. He needed to go to bed. He was brushing his teeth when he heard groaning again. He paused, straining his ears with a mouthful of toothpaste, and then he heard a whimper. He spit out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth. When he left the loo, he saw that Freddie was now lying on his back. He turned his face away, sighing harshly.

Brian turned on the lamp. “Freddie?”

The light from the lamp didn’t wake him. He turned his face again. His brow was pinched and he was biting his bottom lip. Under the blankets, his legs shifted around. His eyes darted back and forth beneath the lids.

 _Nightmare,_ Brian’s drunken brain caught on. But because he was inebriated, he didn’t have any reservations about wanting to help him. “Freddie,” he said. He didn’t know if he was trying to wake him up or soothe him without waking him—his brain didn’t really get that far in its thought process. He just knew that he thoroughly disliked the pained expression on Freddie’s face and wanted to make it stop.

Freddie whimpered, a small, high-pitched little sound.

Something in Brian’s chest felt like it was breaking—or melting. Or both? He didn’t know. “It’s just a dream,” he told him. 

Freddie muttered something unintelligible, the corner of his mouth twitching. His bangs were sticking to his forehead. 

Without thinking, Brian reached out and brushed his hair away from his forehead. He’d never actually touched his hair before; it was softer than it looked. 

Freddie moaned in distress. His hand clenched where it laid above the covers on his chest.

Brian smoothed his hand over his forehead again, not knowing why. “You’re all right,” he whispered, caressing his skin. Something about seeing his friend, their flamboyant frontman, frightened due to a dream made Brian feel protective.

The furrow between Freddie’s eyebrows lessened slightly.

Brian moved his hand down and squeezed his shoulder.

But that was the wrong move, because then Freddie’s eyes flew open and he shot up with a shout.

Brian stumbled backwards from surprise, nearly falling over and onto his arse. He held out his arms and waved them, probably looking like a tall bird, and regained his balance.

Freddie’s large, frightened eyes landed on him. “Brian?”

“Shit!” he hissed. “You scared me.”

 _“I_ scared _you?_ You’re the one looming over my bed!”

Brian felt his face heating. “I was—you were having a nightmare, and I was trying to wake you up.”

Freddie ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his shoulders releasing. “Oh.” He sat forward and put his face in his hands. He rubbed his eyes. “So that’s why I feel terrible,” he muttered.

Feeling a little dizzy from the booze and nearly falling over, Brian sat on the edge of the bed. “Has this been going on every night?”

“Nearly.” He lowered his hands, smiling slightly. “How much have you had to drink, dearie?”

“I dunno. Why?”

“You don’t realize how much you’re slurring your words, do you?”

Brian blinked. “Um. Guess not.” Maybe he was more drunk than he thought. This did all feel slightly less than real.

Freddie was amused, but anxiety was in his gaze. “Fun night out with the boys?”

“Yeah, it was nice. How’s your throat?”

“A little better. Don’t worry about me.”

But Brian thought of how small and scared he looked a minute ago. “I’m more worried about these nightmares. You really can wake me, you know. I don’t mind. We’re friends. We can talk. I know we don’t do it a lot, but y’know. We share a room, so why not?” Was he rambling? He tended to talk a lot when he drank.

Freddie was watching him with a bemused look in his eye. “That’s nice of you, Brian,” he said. “But I’m really all right. I won’t be reduced to a puddle from a few bad dreams every now and then.” As he said that, his nails were digging into the duvet. He swallowed audibly.

Brian felt like he was really getting to know Freddie, and the one thing he was beginning to realize was that he never said if anything was seriously wrong. As much as he could fuss and act like a diva, that was only over trivial matters. He dismissed his own problems all of the time. Brian was never one to complain when he wasn’t feeling well either, mentally or physically, so he knew the feigned nonchalance Freddie was putting on. 

“Concerts are stressful,” Brian said. “It’s okay to be stressed.”

“I was born to be a performer,” he said defensively.

“You were. But you can still be stressed. I get stressed.”

Freddie looked down. “Well. You can tell me about that sometime, too,” he said quietly. “It goes both ways, Bri.”

Brian felt warm, and it wasn’t simply from the alcohol. Sometimes, Freddie had his sweet little moments. “Thanks, Fred.”

Freddie glanced up at him with a small, shy smile, the anxiety fading from his big, brown eyes.

Brian smiled back, feeling like they were having a real connection. Before he could think about it too hard, he leaned forward and hugged Freddie, wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

There was a quiet little intake of breath from Freddie, and he tentatively returned the hug. “Oh, you’re very drunk, darling,” he murmured.

Brian felt the vibration of his voice, and his eyes fluttered closed. _Mmm, Freddie’s warm,_ his intoxicated mind supplied. Tomorrow, he would wake up and his stomach would flip when he remembered this. They had never hugged before this, but right now, Brian was enjoying the embrace too much and wondering why they didn’t hug more often.

Freddie was the one who pulled back. There was a slight pink tinge to his cheeks.

Drawn to him, Brian cupped the flushed cheek, and watched with a half-lidded gaze when Freddie’s eyes widened.

But he gently pushed Brian by the shoulders. “You should go to bed,” he said firmly, but not unkindly.

Brian nodded sluggishly. Yeah, bed sounded nice. He moved over to his bed and kicked his shoes off before climbing under the sheets, too tired to care about changing into pajamas. “Sweet dreams, Freddie,” he said through a yawn.

“Sweet dreams, Brian,” he said softly.

Brian was asleep before he turned out the light.

* * *

Of course, Brian had a mini crisis when he woke up sober and remembered how he petted his mate’s hair while he slept and hugged him and cupped his cheek while in the same bed. Why did he do that? He got drunk with friends plenty of times and never felt the need to touch their cheeks. What was it about Freddie that made Brian feel off his game? But he tried to keep all of this to himself, because it wasn’t Freddie’s fault that Brian got touchy-feely. Besides, he meant what he said. He really did want Freddie to talk to him if he was feeling badly or having more nightmares, and didn’t want last night to make things uncomfortable between them.

Unfortunately, that was what happened.

Freddie didn’t allude to that night at all and was nothing but polite smiles and whining about Brian’s playing when he wanted to be testy, as usual, but he was averting his gaze more when they locked eyes. Freddie was a shy person by nature, but they’d been friends for years, and he’d stopped being this way around Brian ages ago. He was ducking his head and hiding his mouth more, like in the days of Smile, and Brian couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault. His weird, vaguely complicated feelings messed everything up. Roger and John didn’t seem to notice—or at least, Brian thought they didn’t, but he couldn’t be sure.

The result of all of this was that Freddie was clearly still suffering from bad dreams and not telling him about it. Brian hadn’t woken up due to a yell from Freddie since that first night, but he knew he was a deep enough sleeper that he could have been dead to the world while Freddie woke up from nightmares every night. If anything, given his sleep pattern, Brian was surprised he even woke up at all that one night.

It was nearing the end of the tour now, but while Freddie always started to lose steam by this point, he definitely seemed more tired than usual. The dark circles under his eyes wouldn’t leave and he would stifle yawns behind his fist when he thought Brian wasn’t looking. 

It hurt, honestly, to think he was so resistant to talking to Brian. _What’s so special about Roger?_ he thought bitterly. 

Currently, they were on a tour bus, about an hour away from their destination. The mid-afternoon sun was high in the sky, shining light through the windows. Brian was in a foul mood, so he’d spent the better part of the last forty minutes tuning everyone out and staring out the window, his arms crossed over his chest. He was being unreasonably pissy, but he was stubborn and didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now. He vaguely heard the others talking about various things, from their previous performances to whatever John was reading in the magazine he’d brought on the bus, but he ignored them, telling the others he had a headache. He was sitting next to Freddie, but was careful to keep distance between them so not even their knees could brush on accident. Maybe Brian needed to get laid, and then he’d stop feeling so petty and small.

Brian was so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed the others’ voices dying down, particularly Freddie’s, until he felt a thump on his shoulder. He looked around, and saw that Freddie’s head had dropped down onto his shoulder. He had dozed off, his eyes closed and the angle of the sun causing his long lashes to cast shadows on the tops of his cheeks. His lips were parted, and he would have been embarrassed to know that his top teeth were showing.

Brian sighed in exasperation and his chest felt tight. “Knew you weren’t sleeping well,” he muttered. He must have been exhausted to drop off like this. He wasn’t one to sleep on buses and planes often. Brian started to worry. How would Freddie react when he woke up? Should Brian wake him now? No, that would be rude, considering how poorly he’d been sleeping lately. He would...just have to sit here and play it off when he woke up. He hoped it wouldn’t be a weird interaction.

The bus hit a small bump in the road. Freddie’s head lolled down, but then he readjusted himself and nuzzled his cheek into Brian’s shoulder. He settled with a deep exhale, his features smoothed out.

Brian pressed his lips together, face warming without his permission. An odd combination of fondness and anxiety tore at his chest. He couldn’t think he was endearing like this—no, they were just friends. They…

Brian’s head whipped around when he heard a muffled laugh. He narrowed his eyes. “What?” he spat, or at least tried to sound angry through a whisper.

Roger and John looked far too cheeky for his liking. 

“What’re you looking at?” Brian whispered.

“Nothing,” Roger held up his hands, doing a poor job of concealing his smile. “You look comfy, is all.”

John hid his face in his magazine.

“What am I supposed to do, wake him up?” Brian glared at him.

Roger shrugged. “I didn’t say you had to do anything.”

Brian pointedly looked back out the window, his face burning, and said nothing for the rest of the ride. The weight on his shoulder was almost comforting, but the warm, steady breaths exhaled onto his neck made him want to squirm in his seat. He had to bite the inside of his lip to keep still, and absolutely refused to think about why he was having such a physical reaction to his friend’s breath on his neck.

Freddie slept the rest of the way there, quietly breathing and occasionally sighing, and only awakened when the bus stopped. He lifted his head, hair a little messy. He blinked blearily at Brian. “Are we here?” he asked groggily.

“Yes,” he said, bracing himself for his reaction.

Freddie looked disoriented and self-conscious. He sat up straight and stretched, avoiding Brian’s eyes. “Right, then,” he said, and then stood up and walked to the front of the bus.

Brian watched him walk away. God, was Freddie really that uncomfortable touching him? Friends were supposed to be okay with something like that. It’s not like they bloody kissed or anything! He realized Roger and John were staring at him with smug smiles again, and he snapped, “Mind your business, you two!” and got up to leave the bus.

He was getting rather sick of this.

* * *

That night, Brian went to their shared room first, intending to fall asleep before Freddie arrived. He hated that things were so tense between them now, but he didn’t know how to fix it. He just wanted the tour to be over so they could all go home and spend some time away from each other before they got back into the studio. Maybe he’d stop by a pub or two and try to see if he could pick up any girls.

Brian had actually managed to fall asleep quickly, but not even he could sleep through Freddie yelling and hitting the floor. Brian turned on the lamp as quickly as he could, his heart in his throat and his mind foggy and clogged with sleep.

Freddie was on the floor in the narrow space in between their beds and tangled up in the sheets. He only seemed half-awake. His eyes were open, but had a far-away look and he was kicking the blankets as he moaned in distress.

“Freddie!” Brian called.

Freddie’s head snapped up, his eyes the size of dinner plates, and he freed himself from the blankets to jump up onto the bed and nearly tackle Brian in a hug.

Brian had to brace one hand on the mattress to stay upright, but he wrapped his arm around his back instinctively. His heart was pounding and anxiety prickled at his skin, giving him goosebumps. It looked like Freddie had a truly terrible dream (enough to make him fall out of bed!), and Brian would fight past his fatigue and shock at their position to help him.

Freddie seemed to realize what he did and ended the hug, blinking at Brian rapidly. He was pale. “Oh. I’m sorry. I just…” His shoulders were heaving, like he couldn’t catch his breath.

Brian knew that if he didn’t get control over his breathing, he could have a panic attack. “Freddie—”

But he was ducking his face and starting to move away. He was trembling. “I’ll just—”

Brian grasped his shoulders, halting his movements. He was tired of Freddie clamming up around him and refusing to let him help. “No. Look, you’ve got to breathe.”

Freddie looked a little surprised by his boldness.

Brian would have been smug—it took a lot to surprise Freddie Mercury—but he was mainly worried about the way he was shaking like a leaf in his grasp. He never saw him this upset. Brian kept hold of him, but loosened his grip. “Breathe.”

Freddie stared at him for a long moment.

“I’ll do it with you,” he offered.

He nodded. He followed Brian’s lead of slow, deep breaths through his nose and out through his mouth. They did this for roughly fifteen seconds before Freddie’s breathing was steadier and he got some color back to his complexion.

Brian let go of him. “There.”

Freddie looked down. “Thank you. I’m sorry for this.”

Brian hated this, hated that he felt the need to apologize for wanting comfort. “Don’t be,” he told him. “We’re friends. Will you please tell me what the dream was about? I saw how nasty it was. Stop…” _hiding from me._ “Denying it.”

Freddie’s eyes were downcast, and his trembling fingers fiddled with the drawstring on his pajama bottoms. “Well, I keep having this dream where the hotel collapses, and I’m trapped in the rubble. It’s very vivid. Very disorienting.”

“Sounds like it,” Brian frowned. That would explain why he’d jump up in fear out of a sound sleep.

“Tonight,” he started quietly, “it wasn’t me.”

“What do you mean?”

He licked his lips. “I mean, the building collapsed but I wasn’t in it.” He paused. “You were.”

Brian stared at him. He...was that upset over a bad dream about him? “Really?” he asked softly.

Freddie nodded. He was biting his lip. “I’m sorry for acting so juvenile. It’s only that, I tried to find you in the rubble and I couldn’t, and in the dream I was panicking, and in real life I felt trapped in the sheets. Then I woke up and saw you and felt...relieved. I couldn’t stop myself from, you know…” he trailed off.

Brian felt touched. He cared about him that much? He hadn’t known. “I’m here,” he said. “It was just a dream.”

“I know. I’m sorry for bothering you and waking you,” he said, sounding ashamed.

“Stop it,” Brian insisted. “Stop being sorry. You’re not a burden to me, Freddie. None of this bothers me.”

Freddie hesitantly lifted his gaze. His hair was disheveled and his loose T-shirt hung on his thin frame, revealing some of his chest and his left shoulder.

Brian’s heart thumped.

“Not even the hugging?” he asked cautiously. “It’s not...too gay for you?” he winced.

Ice dropped into Brian’s stomach. _That_ was what he feared? _That_ was why he was avoiding Brian? “No!” he said immediately. “Christ, is that what you think? _I_ hugged _you_ that one time, remember?”

“You were drunk!” he threw up his hands.

“So? Freddie, we _lived_ together. I’m not afraid to hug you just because you’re gay.” He suddenly felt terrible. “Have I done something to make you think I care about your preferences?” he asked slowly, with mounting guilt. Oh, damn, was this his fault?

“No,” Freddie rushed in to say. “No, you’re fine, dear.” He wasn’t shaking anymore, but his expression darkened. “Old habits, old fears die hard, I suppose,” he muttered.

Freddie never talked about the things he faced in the past from his sexuality, but this tiny glimpse had Brian’s heart tearing in two. How dare anyone hurt this wonderful man over who he wanted to love. Things like that got Brian really fired up.

“I’m not that way,” Brian said. “You’re fine as you are. We’re not friends any less just because of that. The hug really didn’t bother me. I promise.” Freddie’s sexuality wasn’t his concern. Brian’s own confusion over how he felt or didn’t feel was what was driving him mad, but he couldn’t talk about that now. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t brave like Freddie. He only wished this misunderstanding didn’t leave him thinking Brian was disgusted by touching him. In fact, he needed to convince him that wasn’t true.

“Well...good,” Freddie said with a little nod.

Brian took a breath. “We could do it again, if you’d like,” he said.

Freddie’s big eyes blinked at him owlishly. “Do what?” 

Brian hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Hug, I mean. Well, ‘cause, you seemed really put off by the nightmare, so. You know.” _Real smooth, Brian._

“Oh,” he said softly. His tone was (pleasantly?) surprised. “All right.”

They hugged again, and perhaps it was awkward for a moment, but then Freddie tightened his arms around his neck and sighed shakily. Brian held him close, mentally noting how well he fit in his arms. The embrace was warm, their chins resting on each other’s shoulders. Brian could smell the hotel conditioner in his hair. It was close and intimate, and he didn’t want it to stop.

Freddie hugged him tighter. “Bloody nightmare,” he said under his breath, upset again.

Brian ran a hand up and down his back. “I’m here,” he reassured. “Just a dream.” He felt Freddie’s muscles relax under his touch. Curious, he kept rubbing his back, enjoying the warmth beneath his palm. In the back of his mind, he wondered when was the last time he held someone like this.

Freddie let out a little hum of pleasure, leaning his weight onto him.

Brian chuckled. “Like that?”

“I always knew I deserved to be pampered,” he said playfully.

Brian laughed more, and Freddie joined in with him. It was late, nearing four in the morning, but the interrupted sleep was worth feeling the vibrations from Freddie’s chuckling against his chest. Brian pulled back, but kept his arms around him.

Freddie’s arms were loosely slung around his neck, and he gave him a gentle, toothy grin.

Brian felt a flutter in his chest. He thought of complimenting his smile, but feared that would be too forward. “Feel better?”

“Yes, darling. I’ll sleep better tomorrow night.”

“But can’t you go back to sleep now?”

“Oh, no,” he said casually and removed his hands from his neck. “I never sleep after such vicious dreams.”

“Freddie!” he scolded. “And you didn’t tell me? No wonder you’ve been so tired.”

“What a doting dear you are,” he teased.

“Seriously, you need to sleep. We’ve got a show tomorrow.”

“I know,” he said, his smile falling. “But I’m simply too worked up after these pesky dreams. I’ve tried. I’ve even gone walking up and down the halls to tire myself out. Doesn’t work.”

Brian bit back a complaint about how Freddie should have woken him during those times and looked around the room. “There’s got to be a way to get you to relax.”

“You can go back to sleep, Bri. It’s late and I shouldn’t keep you up.”

If only people knew this side of Freddie Mercury, the generous side that fussed over the people he cared about. “If you don’t stop, I’ll whack you over the head with my guitar,” he said absentmindedly, just to hear Freddie laugh. But, wait. His guitar! He had his Red Special here, but also an acoustic guitar. That would be quiet enough not to disturb anyone else on this floor. Brian got up and retrieved the guitar from its case under the bed, smiling at Freddie when he settled back on the mattress, cross-legged.

Freddie threw his head back with a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“What?” Brian asked, lowering his arms.

“Roger was right!” he giggled. “You’re going to serenade me with your guitar!”

Brian flushed. “Well, I’m a guitarist! What else am I supposed to do?” He felt silly now.

Freddie was smiling widely. “If only the others were here to see this.”

 _“No._ Now lie down or I really will whack you with this thing.”

To his surprise, Freddie got under the blankets in _this_ bed. He laid down on his side, amusement dancing on his features.

Brian didn’t have the heart to tell him to go back to his own bed. He did insist he wasn’t uncomfortable around him and couldn’t take it back. Brian propped up a pillow up against the headboard so he could lie back against it. The bed was small, but they managed due to being rather skinny, despite Brian’s long legs. Freddie’s head was down on a pillow by his hip, and he looked up at him with a smile of anticipation. 

Brian began to play soft chords, looking down at his fingers. He was feeling overtired now from being awake this long, but he hoped he knew how much his body craved sleep. He hoped he wouldn’t fall asleep before Freddie. He kind of couldn’t believe he was doing this, to be honest. He looked down by his hip.

Freddie was grinning at him, looking young and full of mirth.

“You’re supposed to close your eyes, Freddie.”

“Right, sorry.” He did.

Brian kept playing and looked down at his hands so he didn’t spend all night staring at him like a weirdo. He wasn’t playing anything in particular, just messing around with chords and playing some things he had rattling around in his brain but didn’t flesh out into a song yet. His fingers plucked the strings as gently as they could, for Freddie’s sake and for the other people on this floor. Brian didn’t think he’d be playing guitar at four in the morning when he went to bed, but he felt like he and Freddie were at a much better place now. He still felt badly that he could ever give the impression that he didn’t accept Freddie. If only he knew the truth, that Brian was having terribly conflicting feelings about him as of late. But Brian needed to think about all of that later, when he was home in the quiet of his own room rather than the hustle and bustle of touring. 

For now, he strummed and felt the warmth from the body next to his in the small bed. Time took on an odd, almost fantasy-like quality at this hour with the quiet of their surroundings, save for the notes caressing their ears. The lamplight looked like it was starting to dim and Brian blinked hard. It went back to normal. Oh, the light wasn’t dimming, his eyelids were drooping. Well, he wasn’t exactly used to playing at this hour. He looked down.

Freddie’s hand was curled next to his face on the pillow, palm facing upwards. He was fast asleep. His plush lips were parted and his cheek was smushed a little against the pillow. His breaths were quiet and slow, his shoulder moving up and down evenly beneath the sheets.

Brian couldn’t stop his fond smile. It worked. He yawned deeply, eyes hurting from fatigue. A glance at the clock revealed it was half past four. _Freddie Mercury, you’ll be the end of me._ Brian moved carefully and put the guitar down next to the bed on the floor, leaning the neck up against the wall. He didn’t feel like getting up to put it back in its case, so he switched off the lamp and rolled over. He maneuvered himself under the covers and had to straighten his legs out entirely not to touch Freddie. It was warm in bed with another person next to him, and weight was tugging at his eyelids. _Should I be more concerned about this?_ he thought idly. What would his father think if he knew he was in bed with Freddie? Maybe he should go to the other bed...

Freddie’s fingers twitched on the pillow and he frowned slightly.

Damn. He couldn’t leave him. “Shhh,” Brian shushed as quietly as he could. “You’re okay.”

His lips moved, soundlessly at first. Then, Freddie mumbled, “Bri.”

Brian’s insides melted, his heart thudding heavily. “I’m here, Freddie,” he whispered. “Sleep well.”

Freddie snuffled into the pillow, and then his face was the picture of peace.

Brian couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. He was tired enough to almost feel drunk off it, and this all felt like a strange, lovely dream. He fell asleep hoping this fragile thing between them was for real.

* * *

Freddie and Brian were supposed to join Roger and John for breakfast, but they were nowhere to be seen in the hotel dining area.

They decided to go check on them after they ate (after, because Roger and John were bloody hungry and didn’t feel like waiting, thank you very much). 

John used a spare key to their door that they were given. “They probably forgot to set the alarm,” he said as he turned the key.

“Maybe, and it takes an earthquake to wake Brian on the best of days,” Roger said. It was one of the reasons why he got tired of sharing a room with him and told Freddie to swap places with him. That, and, well, Roger was no dummy. He saw the way those two looked at each other when they thought no one was watching. “Freddie doesn’t usually sleep in, though.”

“Well, he’s still having bad dreams, yeah?” The door opened. John went inside.

Roger was about to shout something like _“oi, where were you two?”_ But he bumped into John, who had abruptly stopped walking.

“Oof,” Roger grumbled. “Wha—uh—? Oh.”

Brian and Freddie were sound asleep in the same bed, and the blankets and pillows from the other bed were on the floor.

Their legs formed a large lump where they were tangled together under the blankets, which were pulled down by their hips. Brian was spooning Freddie so much that he was almost on top of him, with his arms wrapped protectively around his chest and waist, and his thigh slung over his hip, leaving his foot hanging off the mattress. Freddie didn’t seem to mind being smothered, on the contrary; he had a hand rested over one of Brian’s forearms, and looked perfectly comfortable and content as he slept the morning away, despite Brian snoring in his ear.

John and Roger stared at them.

They looked at each other, and then their hands flew to their mouths to stifle their laughter. Roger’s shoulders shook as he tried to keep it down, but it was difficult when his friends looked like _that._ Brian looked like an octopus wrapped around Freddie. It was utterly absurd. Roger wished he had Brian’s camera to snap a photo. 

“Wait!” John whispered. He pointed to the acoustic guitar against the wall. “Look!”

They started laughing harder, and desperately tried to keep quiet.

“I knew it!” Roger whispered. “He serenaded Fred with his bloody guitar!” This was too good. Roger felt like he could cry from laughter. He _knew_ those two were dancing around each other! “You owe me five pounds.”

“Fine,” John agreed. “I knew Brian was cheesy, but I didn’t think _that_ cheesy.”

 _“I_ did!” Roger laughed. “They try to act like they’re not a couple of saps, but they forget we’re around them all the time.”

Freddie whined sleepily and rolled over, burying his face into Brian’s thin chest and throwing an arm over his waist.

Roger bit back his smirk. “I think we should go,” he whispered.

“Definitely,” John said.

They left the room as silently as they could, made it down the hallway, and dissolved into giggles again.

“Did you see him fucking _cuddle_ Brian?” Roger asked with a wheezing laugh.

“I did,” John said. “So, do we tell them we saw that?”

“Nah,” Roger said mischievously. “Let them think they’re fooling us and see how long they try to hide it. It’ll be fun. They’ll probably be embarrassed as hell when they find out we know.”

“Okay,” John said, because if he and Roger had to deal with their friends staring at each other with cartoon hearts in their eyes every bloody day, they might as well have some fun with this, right? “I’ll bet you a fiver we’ll catch them snogging backstage soon.”

“Deal!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no intention of writing a chapter 2, but a couple of people asked for it, so why not? :) This part is shorter than the last. It's all fluff, babes

Gentle warmth surrounded his body, and the softness of the pillows and sheets tried to drag Brian back under oblivion fully. There was something solid in his arms, and his sleep-clouded mind hugged it tighter. The human instinct to be close to warmth was strong and uninhibited due to his semi-slumber. His limbs and eyelids were heavy, but pleasantly so. He rubbed his cheek into the pillow, settling in more. His thoughts were floating and nonsensical, not lasting for more than a few seconds before drifting to something else. He was half-dreaming, and would have sunk back into a deep sleep, but something was touching his hair.

Brian was slowly pulled further into consciousness, and he registered that it was a hand. Fingers were delicately carding through his curls, brushing hair back from his forehead and trailing over his skin. It had slightly roused him at first, but the caressing felt nice; usually no one touched his hair, and he’d forgotten how good it felt. He was being petted like a cat, and his nearly-unconscious mind couldn’t be happier. He felt so relaxed he almost felt drunk, or post-coital, but he knew he was neither. He was slipping back into a proper sleep, but then there was a small laugh.

“No, don’t go back to sleep,” came the whisper, and the hand stopped moving. “Wake up.”

That voice. 

“Mmm,” Brian groaned, frowning, and feeling heavy all over. 

“It’s time to get up, darling.”

He didn’t want to get up, though. He was comfortable and warm and hugging something, and there had been lovely fingers going through his curls a moment ago. His arms half-heartedly tightened around the warm lump held to his chest in protest. 

The hand left his hair and rested upon his shoulder. “Bri, come on,” the affectionate whisper said. A pause. Then, a thumb rubbed his shoulder, warm through his T-shirt. The movement was gentle, but insistent. “Brian, sweetheart.”

 _Freddie?_ Fighting past the fuzzy feeling in his head, Brian blearily blinked his eyes open.

Freddie was lying next to him. A small, tender smile lightly tugged his mouth upwards, his front teeth showing. Sunlight was highlighting Freddie’s tousled black hair and lit up his brown eyes. His features were sleepy and open.

For a moment, Brian’s heart fluttered and he relaxed. But then, he realized he _was holding Freddie._ Actually, it was more than that—he had his arms _and_ a leg wrapped around him. He was almost bloody on top of him!

“Rise and shine,” Freddie said softly, voice tinged with amusement. “I hate to wake you, but I’m getting peckish.”

Brian gasped and sat up, letting go of him and putting as much distance between them as he could, fully alert now. “Oh, shit! I’m sorry, Freddie,” he covered his burning face with his hand, hoping it seemed like he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and not poorly concealing a blush. He was just snuggling his mate. For the love of god, what was wrong with him? Now this—whatever feelings he may or may not have been developing—would be out in the open. What if things were weird between them now?

“It’s perfectly all right,” Freddie said casually. He sat up and stretched. “Come on. I think we were supposed to eat with Roger and John.”

Brian watched him get out of bed and stroll over to the loo. Freddie seemed completely unbothered by the state they had woken up in. Still, he felt embarrassed and self-conscious of his long, gangly limbs that had wrapped around Freddie like tentacles in his sleep. Part of him wanted to pretend it never happened, but he felt badly for how uncomfortable Freddie must have been. He was probably just being nice by not bringing it up to Brian—he was much kinder than people gave him credit for. The part of Brian that was raised to be polite needed to apologize again.

(There was another part of him hung up over the fact that Freddie called him _sweetheart_ while trying to wake him. Freddie’s pet names of choice were _darling_ and _dear,_ never _sweetheart._ Brian was probably just overthinking it.)

“Um,” he said several minutes later, after they were dressed and walking down the hall. “Sorry, again for, you know. The way we woke up.”

Freddie actually rolled his eyes. “Oh, Brian, don’t be silly. The bed was only so big and we’re two grown men. You worry too much.”

The tension in his shoulders tentatively loosened. “Really?”

“Yes.” He stopped walking. “Unless you didn’t like it,” he said hesitantly.

“No, it was fine,” Brian reassured him, because the last thing he wanted was Freddie thinking he was bothered by touching him due to his sexuality again. “I just thought you looked uncomfortable, physically. And cramped.”

Freddie was at ease again. “No, not at all.”

“Right. Good.”

Roger and John were sitting on the sofa in the hotel lobby.

“There you are!” Roger said. “We ate without you.”

“Rude!” Freddie pouted.

“Well, we were hungry. You’re the ones who slept in.”

“Yeah,” John said, looking at them with an odd smile. “Sleep well?”

Brian felt self-conscious, but they couldn’t have known he’d slept in the same bed as Freddie. It wasn’t like they had sex, either, so that they would have made noise that could be heard through the walls—what lunatic train of thought Was Brian’s brain going on?! Sex with Freddie—no, he couldn’t think about this.

“Yes,” Freddie smiled, completely oblivious to the private meltdown Brian was having beside him. 

“No nightmares?” John asked.

“I had one, but I slept afterwards so I’m fine for tonight.”

Brian was glad he didn’t mention the small serenade that happened on the bed.

“Now!” Freddie clapped his hands together. “I’m starving.”

The rest of the day went all right, except that Brian could have sworn that Roger and John were smiling at him more than usual. He might have just been paranoid, though. He didn’t want to confront them and start any arguments right before they had a show.

Freddie definitely seemed more energetic than he’d been the past few days. Tonight, he put on a tri-colored leotard for the first time, with the chest completely open and ballet slippers on his feet. The leotard clung to his slender body, and it...oh.

“Fred,” Brian let out a breath. “Are you actually going to wear that on stage?”

Freddie smirked. “Of course! Why?” He struck a pose. “Is it too revealing?”

Brian carefully kept his eyes on Freddie’s face and not the bulge stretching the red, white, and green fabric. It wasn’t that Freddie was turned on—or, well, it didn’t look like he was, going by the quick glimpse Brian got—but he was well-endowed, apparently…

“Sort of,” Brian choked out.

Freddie’s smile only grew more mischievous. “Great! The audience will want to eat me up,” he said, holding his head up high and strutting towards the curtains.

Brian felt Roger’s eyes on him. He ignored him.

Their performance went well. The crowd cheered in all the right places, they all played just fine, and Freddie nailed it, as usual.

“What do you think of my new outfit?” he asked the audience in between songs, putting his hands on his hips.

The crowd cheered.

“You like it?” he asked. “I do, too. Nice and open!” he lifted his arms over his head in another pose.

Brian stared at him, his face feeling flushed from more than just the hot stage lights. He swallowed and looked down at his guitar. No time to think about any of this now.

Backstage after the show, Freddie was covered in sweat and the leotard stuck to his skin.

“Maybe outfits like that aren’t a good idea,” Brian said. He was being moody because of his own thoughts about what the outfit did to him, which was unfair, but he said it anyway.

Freddie only said, “Don’t be jealous that you can’t pull this off.”

“I’d pay to see Brian in that!” Roger laughed, and then he thought about it for a moment. “Or, maybe not.”

Brian couldn’t imagine what his gangly limbs and boney chest would look like in that thing.

“I’m sure he’d be lovely,” Freddie said. “This one,” he pinched the fabric of his outfit, “would be much too small, though.”

 _I’m sure he’d be lovely._ Brian looked away. “If you buy one in my size, I’ll quit the band,” he muttered.

* * *

Brian’s spirits picked up at the after party. Freddie came along this time, and he was always the life of the party. He had changed into a pair of trousers, a dress shirt and a blazer with yellow flowers on it, which meant that Brian could look at him now without his face growing warm. It felt good to get thoroughly sloshed with his friends, and Brian always liked when Freddie lost enough self-awareness to stop covering his mouth when he laughed out loud. If Brian, himself, had any self-awareness, he would have noticed that he was staring at Freddie much more than usual, but he didn’t, leaving Roger and John to laugh about it amongst themselves.

At some point past midnight, Brian and Freddie stumbled back to their room, leaning on each other. Brian kept trying to shush Freddie’s laughing _(“Fredde! People are asleep!”),_ but he wasn’t much quieter. It was hard to tell who was really leaning on whom for support. Brian’s long legs and clogs nearly made him tumble a couple of times, which only made Freddie stumble with a laughing fit. They finally got into their room, clumsily flipping on the light switch, and when Freddie sank onto the mattress, Brian didn’t let go of him in time, so he came down on the mattress with him.

Brian fell to the mattress with an _oof_ and landed on his stomach.

Freddie was lying on his back, his flushed face turned to him. His smile was wide and playful. “Helloooo, darling,” he drawled.

Brian still felt kind of giggly, but bit his bottom lip. He should get up, probably. But the room might spin if he did that. Was the room spinning? He should ask Freddie. “Is the room spinnin’?”

Freddie giggled. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But maybe.”

Brian blinked sluggishly at him. He should really get up. But the duvet was soft beneath his cheek, and he felt like he was floating, but would go crashing on the floor if he tried to stand up. “My legs won’t work,” he mumbled nonsensically. 

“That’s okay.” He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t think mine can, either.”

“I’ll get up soon, I...I’ve just got to...work my legs.”

Freddie rolled over onto his side. His smile was still there, but smaller now. “You can stay.”

Their faces were close, and Brian could smell the alcohol on his breath. His hazy brown eyes nearly looked black. He always had such big, soft eyes. His long black hair was a stark contrast against the light duvet, and his locks were settling into waves now, since it had been hours since he’d straightened it. He looked like a work of art, and...and Brian was too drunk for this. Nevertheless, his eyes were drawn to Freddie’s plump lips. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked.

Freddie pillowed his head on his forearm, bending his arm at the elbow. He gazed at him, eyes studying his face. “Your face gets red when you’re drunk,” he observed.

Brian didn’t think his complexion was solely from the alcohol, but he agreed. “Yeah. And you get loose.”

“Loose?” he smiled. “Like a loose whore?”

“No! I mean, you’re less shy.”

“Most people are like that when they drink,” he said. “But I’m not shy around you anymore, anyway.”

“Sometimes you are.”

“Like when?”

“Like when you weren’t tellin’ me ‘bout the dreams,” he accused.

Freddie twisted his mouth to the side. “That wasn’t shy. I only didn’t want to bother you.”

“You don’t bother me,” Brian mumbled. His lips weren’t very coordinated right now. The bed felt so good beneath his tired body. It was a good thing they were near the end of the tour, because he was getting worn out. “Why’d you tell Roger you were having bad dreams and not me?”

“Because he told me about his first,” Freddie said simply. 

His jealousy dimmed. “Oh. Makes sense.”

A teasing twinkle was back in his eye. “I would’ve told you sooner, if I’d known you’d serenade me.”

Brian groaned. “Shut it.”

Freddie giggled.

He was still sheepish that he did, in fact, play a lullaby for his mate, but it did work. “Did you sleep better last night?”

“I did,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he yawned. He had to get up. He couldn’t. “Still sorry ‘bout bein’ on top of you.”

Freddie sighed in exasperation. “Brian, cut the crap.”

He snorted. His neck was starting to cramp from lying on his stomach and turning his head to look at him, so Brian rolled over onto his side. He should get up. But that was all the strength he had.

Freddie’s large, dark eyes stared at him. “Perhaps we could do it again,” he said quietly.

“Do what again?” he squinted in confusion.

“Sleep. In one bed. It...it helped me,” Freddie said, eyes now downcast.

Oh. Well. Brian wasn’t going to refuse to help his friend. He was drunk and exhausted and afraid he’d get nauseated if he stood up. Plus, he didn’t want to upset Freddie. “Okay,” he breathed. 

Freddie’s face lit up. “Really?”

Brian loved when he got that look on his face. “Yeah.”

“Perfect!” Freddie sat up and started undressing.

Brian’s pulse spiked. “Wait, what’re you doing?”

“Taking off my shirt,” he said. “It’ll be too hot under the blankets with all these clothes,” he waved a hand down at himself. “You should undress, too.”

“Uh, um, I’m good.” He did feel warm, but there was no way he was sharing a bed with Freddie while they were both shirtless. He might...he didn’t know, but it was a bad idea.

Freddie tossed his shirt and blazer to the floor. “Suit yourself.” He kicked off his shoes.

Brian stared at his tanned back and shoulders, and the thick hair on his chest that narrowed into a trail below his navel. Brian suddenly had too much saliva in his mouth and swallowed. He slid out of his own shoes just as a distraction.

Freddie got under the blankets. “C’mon, Bri,” he said. “We’ve got a show tomorrow and we’re both fucked up right now.”

Brian couldn’t suppress a laugh. “We are.” He got under the covers, and they were lying on their sides and staring at each other again. It suddenly seemed very quiet in the room. Their hands were almost touching on the mattress between them. Brian always thought there was something about sharing a bed that was more intimate than sex in a way. 

Freddie extended his pinky and lightly traced over the side of his hand.

A little touch like that shouldn’t have sent a spark of electricity down Brian’s spine, but it did. His chest was swelling with affection for this man beside him, and how very gentle he could be at times like this. Brian ached to hold him. Maybe he should stop holding back. Maybe he could use the alcohol as an opportunity to enact his desires. He could always use his drunkenness as an excuse if things went badly. 

Feeling brave for once, Brian murmured, “You weren’t bothered by this morning?”

“No. How many times must I say it?” he asked, but with no venom.

Bracing himself, Brian held out his arms. “Then come here,” he forced the words from his mouth, face feeling hot.

Freddie looked surprised for a split second, but then he blinked and grinned at him lazily. “My Brian. You always find a way to impress me.” He scooted over and curled into his arms, burying his face into the crook of Brian’s neck. He placed a hand over his chest. Brian had a few of his top buttons undone, so his palm met bare skin.

Brian held him, heart pounding, and yet the alcohol was starting to pull him into unconsciousness. He wanted to resist it for a second and savor this moment. He could smell the cologne Freddie had put on after the show, and his bare skin was warm and soft. Brian squeezed him a little. For once, he didn’t hate how long and gangly his limbs were, because Freddie fit in them perfectly. He never noticed how small Freddie was compared to him until now.

Freddie tilted his head to look up at him. Their eyes locked. Their faces were so close, and he was so warm in Brian’s arms. His gaze was drunken and sleepy, but there was something undoubtedly affectionate there, too. 

Brian couldn’t keep acting like the feelings he had were strictly friendship. He didn’t know everything he felt yet, but he knew he wouldn’t want this with Roger or John. “Freddie, this is…”

Freddie shushed him and grasped his chin, his thumb resting on his lower lip.

Brian’s eyes fluttered shut. His heartbeat was loud in his ears.

“I know,” Freddie whispered, and ran the pad of his thumb over his lip gently. “I know, darling. Let’s just take one day at a time.”

Brian didn’t realize he’d tensed up until his muscles relaxed. That sounded good. But Freddie wasn’t a patient person, far from it. Would he be okay with this?

“For you, yes,” Freddie said. “Neither of us can afford to fuck this up.”

Oh, Brian must have said that out loud. He opened his eyes. He didn’t know exactly what he did or didn’t want yet, but if they took things slowly, he could figure it out. Freddie must have known he was confused, the clever bastard. But he was being kind about it. There was one thing Brian could say for certain. “You mean a lot to me, Freddie.”

Freddie removed his hand from his face and placed it on his hip. His smile was small but sincere. “You mean a lot to me, too, Brian.” He put his face back down into his neck, exhaling sleepily. The hot breath made Brian’s toes curl. “Let’s sleep now,” he murmured into his skin. “I’m tired and drunk.”

Brian couldn’t argue with that. He let himself hug Freddie to his chest and rest his cheek on the top of his head. He still felt somewhat apprehensive about this, but if Freddie was willing to be patient for once, then maybe they could work something out and find out what this all meant, together. Brian slipped into a drunken slumber easily after that, and Freddie didn’t stir once during the night. He breathed softly into Brian’s neck, feeling secure in their hug, and slept a deep, dreamless sleep.

And the next morning, when Roger and John snuck into their room, they did manage to snap a quick Polaroid before making their escape. The plan was simple: hide the picture until they actually did catch Freddie and Brian doing something together while they were both awake, and then surprise them with the picture and a big, fat _“We’ve known since the beginning! Look here!”_ Brian or Freddie (or maybe both) would probably kill them, but Roger agreed with John; if they were going to have to deal with these two being soppy and pining after each other, they might as well have some fun with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I keep writing sleepy fluff between them. I guess I need cuteness during these hard times lol


End file.
